Recently, I heard this personal account of the bombing of Dublin in May 1941. One of the wonderful aspects of living at this moment in time is that our parents’ generation have had the benefit of better healthcare and many of them are with us for longer. As we age ourselves we have more time for them and are better equipped to appreciate the stories that they pass on. This came home to me again this week when my aunt, aged 83 and a cancer survivor, recalled her boarding school days in Dublin during World War II. If school food was bad, imagine how awful it must have been to be a boarder at a time of rationing. She recalled in particular the night that Dublin was bombed on 31st May 1941. She was 14 at the time and the girls had been huddled away in their air raid shelter. The bombs fell in North Strand which was not a million miles away from her school. The girls were rounded up by their teacher, issued with postcards and instructed to write home letting their families know that they were safe. The teacher collected the cards and took them off to the post office. When my aunt’s family in Wexford received her postcard, it was the first they had heard of the bombing of Dublin.